


The Ex-Patient

by thedevilchicken



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), House M.D., Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: The patient is dead. Chase, Reid and Sam have a job to do.





	The Ex-Patient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/gifts).



CHASE

The patient was dead. 

The patient was an ex-patient. He was bereft of life. He was resting in peace. He was pining for the fjords. The patient was _dead_ , at least by all standard medical measures Chase could think of. Except for the tiny little fact that he was sitting up in his bed in the middle of Princeton-Plainsboro, talking to them like nothing was extremely weird about that at all. 

The patient was an inmate from a federal detention facility the Marshals hadn't had to name when they'd brought him in because they all knew exactly who he was (well, except Foreman who'd apparently been living under a rock for the past three months, or at least the past couple of days since he'd been caught). He was a serial killer the FBI had caught, and who the hell even knew where House was when the strangest case they'd ever had walked in the door without a pulse. 

"Look, this just can't be right," Foreman said, for what must've been the eighteenth time, like that was getting them anywhere at all, let alone anywhere fast. 

"We've checked the instruments," Cameron said. "It's right. It's just..." She frowned. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's just..."

"A medical impossibility?" Chase suggested. 

"Sure, that," Foreman said. 

"Against the laws of nature?" Chase went on.

"That, too," Foreman replied.

"Weird as hell?"

"You'll get no argument from me." 

"So what do we _do_?" Chase asked.

They looked at each other. It was pretty easy to ask themselves _what would House do?_ except none of them were House, so they'd gone ahead and ruled out Lupus and then tested and tested and tested. The patient's organs had all failed. The patient's heart had stopped pumping. Every scan they ordered displayed generalized degeneration. No brain function. Blood coagulating in every vein and artery. 

The patient was _dead_ , and the only thing he could tell them was he'd been hungry for weeks. 

"I think it's time we call the FBI," Chase said. 

\---

REID

Thomas Halperin was an engineer. He'd had a good job and an ex-wife who still really liked spending time with him and a son he saw three nights a week. Even amongst all the other killers the BAU had hunted and then caught, he seemed like the epitome of that kind of guy you'd just never suspect. His neighbors definitely hadn't.

Thomas Halperin was the guy next door. He was completely and utterly normal. Except for the fact he'd been draining people's blood and he couldn't explain why.

Reid didn't expect the call from Princeton-Plainsboro but the team was between cases, just catching up on recent paperwork, so he hopped the next flight from DC up to Princeton and walked in without a clue what he'd find waiting. Dr Chase walked him up to Diagnostic Medicine and he joined the team at the table. 

"Dr Reid," Chase said. "What can you tell us about the patient?"

"Maybe we should start with what you know," Reid replied.

Reid's not a doctor of medicine, and the information on their screens and charts and printouts made no sense but not because of his lack of medical experience. It made no sense scientifically, because Halperin was _dead_. He scanned back through every case he could think of involving near-death presentation, and none of them had involved flat vital signs with the patient up and talking; they all involved either intentional or unintentional mimicry of death, not this.

"He says he's hungry," Chase said. "What do you think that means?"

"Does he say what he's hungry for?" Reid replied. 

Chase looked at Foreman. Foreman looked at Cameron. Cameron looked at Chase. 

"I'm starting to think we've got a big problem," Chase said. No one disagreed.

And then, in came a nurse. When they went out to Halperin's room, he was lying motionless and unresponsive in his bed, like Reid knew he should've been since before he'd even left the detention facility. 

All they could do was send him to the morgue. And, more slowly than he'd've liked to admit, Reid started to put the pieces together.

He had a call to make.

\---

SAM

Sam wouldn't say he hates vampires, but it's a pretty close-run thing. Maybe he hates wendigos more. Or demons. Maybe werewolves. He's definitely not so hot on ghosts. Or hellhounds. 

Frankly, being a hunter kind of sucks, but someone's got to do it. 

"So, you take the hospital and I'll--"

"I know the plan, Dean," Sam said, and huffed out a breath, and tugged at one sleeve of his slightly too-tight scrubs. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd worn scrubs under a doctor's coat and he was pretty used to falsifying name tags - still, maybe actually using a real doctor's tag was taking it a little too far, even if Dr House had seemed like kind of a dick in the bar where they'd met. 

The FBI thought Thomas Halperin was a serial killer. They'd pinned nine deaths on him but Sam was pretty sure most of those weren't actually him, considering how he'd only just started to actually turn. They were pretty sure he hadn't been a vampire before he'd been taken into custody, but he sure as hell was one now.

Dean left him in the parking lot sometime around midnight and Sam made his way inside. The morgue was pretty easy to find from there, though he kind of hated that he'd seen so many of them they'd started to seem normal somewhere down the line. The plan was to hope like hell that Halperin hadn't woken up and fled the place, and incinerate the body. Sam figured he could deal with that while Dean did his job, too.

The body was gone. And the morgue door opened. 

Sam hates vampires. Lying on a morgue slab in stolen scrubs with a faked name tag and not even a bulb of garlic to defend himself, he was pretty sure he hated vampires. 

The drawer opened. 

"I'm pretty sure you're not Greg House," Chase said. 

"Hey, Sam," Reid said. He held out his hand. "Where's Dean?"

"He should be getting himself arrested right about now," Sam replied. Reid raised his brows. "How else is he going to get into the detention center?"

Reid nodded. Chase looked incredibly confused. Sam led them to the door. 

They had a vampire to hunt.


End file.
